


it's torturous, really.

by amxriya



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Light Spanking, Nipple Play, Not Beta Read, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Possessive!Bucky, Rough Sex, Smut, Teasing, gone... reduced to atoms..., i used the beta to destroy the beta..., porn with little plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26280202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amxriya/pseuds/amxriya
Summary: It’s torturous, really, what you do to him.A sinister smile on your lips, a swish or sway of your delicate hips. The way you clutch your body when the song moves you makes himjealous,a twinge of anger that never fails to make him antsy.Heshould be touching you.Onlyhim.working on a p2!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	it's torturous, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bucky uses the pet name "bunny" because um hello? that shit's HOT  
> is this the best thing i’ve written? no, but that’s ok bc at least i wrote something chile   
> anyways i hope u like!

It’s torturous, really, what you do to him. 

A sinister smile on your lips, a swish or sway of your delicate hips. The simple sound of your sultry voice, the way his name - _Bucky_ \- seems to shelter the beginnings of a _moan_ anytime it rolls off your tantalizing tongue. The way you clutch your body when the song moves you makes him _jealous,_ a twinge of anger that never fails to make him antsy. _He_ should be touching you. _Only_ him.

So why’s he only _watching_ you out on the dancefloor...? Only just _watching_ the way the guy behind you guides your body to move with his? Why’s he only smiling at the way two sets of hands roll over your hips, and the way your lips curl around the lyrics to _Heartless_ by The Weeknd? Why’s he only glancing at the other people who give you a look a _little_ bit too lingering?

_(Because he’s yours, and you’re his. It’s fairly simple.)_

Things get a bit more complicated when you seek that feeling out, his vindictiveness, affinity to _lash out_ when you ‘act up’, or try to make him jealous. There’s probably still bruises on your back from where his lips left their mark last time - a slow fuck from behind with his lips nestled under your earlobe, whispers of, _‘You’re only fit for me, bunny.’ -_ but all you actively remember is those baby blues overcast with darkened pupils, his jaw clenched to keep himself in line. 

_(That rarely works.)_

And here you are, a little tipsy, but totally aware of the way he’s undressing you with blackened eyes, and even more aware of the way he’s watching anyone brave enough to watch his girl as eagerly as he is. Steve, though… Steve knows his boundaries. A dart of his eyes here, a disguised scan of the whole bar there, and he’s made you out. Knows what spots to avoid to dodge Bucky’s pseudo-wrath. 

You give him a bright smile - _a dare -_ to come and claim what’s his. He always bites. 

Tonight, he does not. 

Instead, he nibbles on his bottom lip, shuffles in his seat when his jeans get a bit too tight, thumb tracing the lip of his glass of whiskey pensively, thinking -

_The things I’m gonna do to you._

#### ❃ ❃ ❃

Eyes blown back with admiration, he stares, fixated, spellbound by the way you sleep, curled loosely on your side, one leg thrown over the other. 

He fixes himself to your back, carved chest nestling against your spine, arm hooking around your waist before he runs his fingers over your breasts, slow, feeling. Wanting. 

_Jealous._

Images of last night come to mind and his cock gets hard all over again, envisioning the way you danced around after a few too many drinks, giving fuck-me eyes to him halfway across the room even though someone else held your body. 

He kicks the covers down to find those legs, smooth, soft skin, and those hips that wound ‘round and ‘round feverishly, putting on a show for everyone else to see. He runs his nails over the bump of your ass, greedy, thinking about the wandering eyes boring into your skin, and, _God,_ how he wishes he would have claimed you there, shown everyone just _whose_ girl you are, his, and _only_ his. 

_But he can control himself._

Placing his metal hand at the column of your throat, he plants a kiss to your cheek and strokes, waking you gently, and you roll over into his grasp, whispering, “Good morning,” with a half-smile on your face, the warm glow from the window making it tougher to see. 

“Isn’t it?” You squint. 

The smile on his face is deceiving, sharp as cold eyes stare into yours, those sapphire irises slowly being devoured by the black of his pupils. It nullifies the sun, his sudden dark aura, as yellow rays cut around his solid body to illuminate yours. He thinks you look beautiful. _Innocent._

Too bad the latter isn’t true. 

He slides his hand to the base of your skull and tugs lightly on your hair before pressing his lips to yours, groaning into your mouth when you whine, breathless. There’s something about that sound, your broken moans, that does something to the pit of his stomach, makes him bare that dark thing nestled inside. “Bunny…” he whispers, disdain-drenched tone chilling your skin as he strokes a thumb over your cheek, “...Can’t get the way you danced last night outta my head.” Another kiss. It’s predatory. _A warning._ “You’re thinking about that guy, aren’t you? The one from the bar.”

“I…” You furrow your brows, confused. “What?” 

_New play, maybe…?_

You try to shake off the thought that something is _different_ about this... he’s not usually this playful, this taunting about the way you tease him, and then there’s the thought that he didn’t act at the bar, instead continuing conversation with Steve, but you brushed that off as him letting you have your fun. 

This, though... this relative calmness, the lack of a stiffened jaw, the slight smirk on his delectable lips makes your body thrum. You shift, try to fight the tension and the growing need between your legs, but then his hand moves to your jaw before you swallow and feel your body suddenly flush with heat as he hovers his fingers over your neck. Feeling. Not pressing. 

Maybe it’s the sun, maybe it’s his formidable presence, but either way, you feel that heat in your belly, stirring something awful, and you squeeze your legs together, studying his unwavering expression. He’s smiling still, always smiling because he knows he’s got you… and if he knew this was turning you on _this_ much - this… _change_ \- you know there’d be hell to pay, but the simple fucking _thought_ of that has you squirming subtly, getting high off the friction of your shorts against your clit.

He repeats himself: “You're thinking about that fella from the bar. The one you danced with. Yes or no?” 

He’s not looking at you - he’s looking at the way his hand rests against your skin, and then his grip tightens, and you exhale a shaky breath, lick your lips. It’s subtle, the movement of his fingers, like a reminder to answer his question - “No,” you say with a little jerk to your head. 

Your chest clenches with a surge of fear. Or excitement. A fucked-up blend of both, maybe. It makes you wetter. 

He hums, disappointed. 

“S’okay if you are,” he says, hand leaving your throat, and you’re not sure why you’re mourning the loss before he traces a finger over your cheek, gaze still on your throat until he looks into your eyes. His brows knit together. “You don't _like_ this, do you, _bunny?”_

 _Bunny..._ The word sends a chill down your spine. 

_(It’s written all over your face.)_

He taps your chin, traces your lips. 

“No…” you whisper, half-hearted, hoping he’ll catch you in a lie, and your stomach jumps at the slight chill to that metal hand holding down your body before flesh fingers meet your drenched cunt and _press,_ feeling the wetness at your entrance, spreading it around your clit. He hums, appreciative when your body reacts, that slight tremble under his metal hand, thrumming when he plays you like a violin, and the feeling is calming, makes your eyes flutter closed in subdued bliss, breaths turning into heady pants ‘cause that _feels so good, Buck,_ until his fingers _dig,_ and your eyes twitch, and your chest jumps, and, _God,_ his smug smile - 

“Liar.” 

You swallow, bottom lip stuttering before he takes your mouth in another kiss, and you’re so soaked that you can hear the filthy squelch of his thick fingers sliding in and out of your pussy and smell your sweet arousal in the air and - 

“Kept thinkin’ about claiming you last night, bunny. All those guys watching you like you’re theirs… But you knew, didn’t you? Knew that I’d wanna mark my territory, huh? That’s why you did it, isn’t it?” You shake your head, but he lifts a brow in protest, stops the movement of his hand. 

“Y-yes - ”

“But now I have to teach you a lesson, don’t I?” And his fingers are moving again, scissoring, pistoning, curling up into that sweet spot, _yeah, like that -_ “Show you what it’s like to be teased? Taunted like that? You deserve it, don't you?” 

“Yeah… Yeah, I deserve it…” The words are nothing but mindless as he marches you toward that edge, getting high off your hooded eyes and parted lips, and, yeah, that dark thing is coming out, and you know it for sure when - _oh, my God, Bucky, I'm gonna -_ and he fucking _stops._

“Flip over, doll.” 

Absolutely fucking _deflated,_ you roll onto your stomach, climbing on all fours until he pulls your ass back into his hips and rocks forward, his hardness rubbing against your wetness, _oh, God…_ He slips your sleep shorts off and discards them somewhere to rub your entrance, decorated with your slick and cream, already a sloppy mess from the work of his fingers. “So easy, baby… Look at that…” He fondles your ass with that metal hand, golden glow encased in onyx, before cracking his palm against a cheek - “Yeah… gonna fuck you _sore.”_

Blinding pain, red hot, simmers against your skin, but you rut your hips back, arms shaking, and he does it _again._

Then _again._

 _And again,_ until - “Babydoll… The way you tremble…” 

Your soft whimpers go straight to his cock, and your resolve crumbles, any fleeting disobedience snuffed out with the palm of his hand, and he’s barely even trying. 

He sits back on his haunches and pulls you up into his arms, slipping his arms under the hem of your shirt to toss it with the shorts, then taking your breasts into his hands. His thumbs float over your nipples and you flinch, breath hitching, ass grinding into his cock as you stutter backward and throw your head over his shoulder. “Look how hard they get for me.” 

He pinches and pulls and tugs and kneads, licking stripes up your cheek to replace the glimmer of salty tears with his saliva. _Reclaiming. Re-marking._

“Only for me.” A pinch a tad too hard - _on purpose -_ makes you cry out, a wretched noise that starts in the back of your throat, but he likes it. _Wants it again._

“Want you ruined for me, bunny.” He pinches. _Harder._ “Want you cryin’ for it.” Then he rolls his thumbs over the tender skin, all soft, too soft, _oh God that -_

You squirm, squeeze your legs together, try to get away, but he doubles down, working his fingertips in tight, light circles that make your brain short circuit, _crackle pop,_ and all there is is a dull _burr_ of static and his self-satisfied smirk against your shoulder as he watches the way your body stutters and _how is he so good at this?!_ The pleasure is white-hot, almost blinding with that slight tinge of pain from oversensitivity, his thumbs just going, _Bucky, please,_ and going, and pinching, and pulling, and you can tell he’s getting greedy with the way his body presses against yours, his hips rocking into your ass, searching desperately for friction and you don’t think he’s ever been this _good_ at this and - 

“I - I can’t…” 

But it doesn’t _do_ anything, and he doesn’t stop, and he’s pinching harder now, those touches still featherlight and intoxicating and _oh my God, fucking - Just, Please, Don't Stop -_

You think you might _cry_ when one hand slips away, leaving only half the pleasure from just that metal palm, but then you hear the muffled shuffle of fabric behind you, and his hand dips down between your legs, smearing your cum around your pussy and then - his _cock_ is pressing against your entrance and - “Jesus _Christ - ”_

The static is eclipsed by want, _utter want,_ turning those choked up whines into a symphony of begs and pleas of _Please, Bucky, fuck me,_ and _Need you so bad, Goddamnit,_ and _I want you, I want you, IwantyouIwantyouIwantyou -_ and you know it’s taking everything inside of him not to give it to you now, stop with the teasing of your tits and shove your face down into the pillow and make you _cry,_ but he just… he… 

he doesn’t fill you… just rubs his cock against your cunt, painfully hard, angry red at the tip, glistening with your juices, and then that hand returns to your breast and his lips are against your throat, teeth grazing and - “Does it hurt, bunny? Hurt so good?” 

It’s whispered like a _threat._

Of course, the answer is _Yesyesyesyes, God, yes -_ but those words don’t come out, simply dying on your tongue as he reduces you to a slobbering, snarling animal, only growling and moaning and shivering - and when you don’t answer, he cracks his palm across your breast, and a dull, pulsing pain spreads throughout your chest, making you rut your hips into _nothing,_ utter nothing, and then he does it _again,_ and _Bucky, I -_

“So pretty when you cry…” Throbbing, _burning,_ with his grip unrelenting, him not letting you come down, you pull in a deep breath through quivering lips as he kisses a tear from the corner of your eye before sighing into your skin. 

“Can’t get enough of seein’ you like this…” You go to protest, try to beg, _come on, I’ll be good next time, I promise,_ but then he digs his fingers into your tits and pushes his cockhead past your entrance and you go _boneless,_ slumping back into him, shaking, shivering, slobbering, _oh, you’re_ **_ruined_ ** _for him…_

Shudders rip through your body again and again and again, vibrating from the intoxicating burn of the _stretch, oh, he’s so thick,_ until he’s buried to the hilt, but he doesn’t move. Everything stops, and you can feel the tears at bay, and maybe your fucking heart has stopped too, and he’s so still and you’re so full of him, of his cock, and the way he clutches you is just… 

_Overwhelming._

“Dancin’ around other guys like that… Y’know what that does to me.” It doesn’t mean anything, his acknowledgment, when he slips that metal hand back under your chin and _squeezes,_ nestling his mouth right next to your earlobe, baring his teeth - “I’m starting to think you like it, huh, bunny?” 

“No, no - I… I _promise,_ I _don’t,_ I - ” He squeezes harder, metal fingers threatening to leave bruises for days to come, and the thought of him marking you makes your core throb, your cunt still spasming around him, begging for even the slightest movement, _please, Buck -_

“You look so pretty when you lie to me, y’know that?” 

He sticks three fingers under your tongue and drags out a line of saliva to smear over your breasts with rough hands, pawing, but it says _These tits? Mine. This mouth? Mine. This body?_ **_Mine._ ** “You get so sloppy for me… Droolin’ all over the goddamn sheets because you _like_ it… You like how I act when I’m jealous, don’t you, babydoll?”

“No, Buck, I would never, I - ”

“Are you thinking about Steve?” _That dark thing…_

It catches you off guard until the tightening of his grip brings you back to now - “No. No, I - ”

“Y’know, I might have a little more sympathy if you were honest with me, baby.” He inhales your scent just behind your ear, primal, finding you smell just like him, nothing more, nothing less. He hums, appreciative. “Gonna make me repeat it, sweet girl?”

“I’m… I…” You weren’t… _at least, you think you weren’t…_ until right now when his face pops into your head and you imagine his lopsided smile, plump, pink bottom lip, _those shoulders…_ “Yes - ”

The sound is cut off by an abrasive movement, his cock finally sliding out, only to slide back in, and then your head is being shoved down into his pillow with that metal hand as he starts _pounding, so aggressive, almost… vindictive, and he’s so thick, and you’re so fucking full and -_

“Bucky - ” His name is spouted into silk, and you’re not too sure if it was even audible as you inhale mouthfuls of his musky scent, sweet from the faint smell of his shampoo on his pillowcase, and yeah, this has _never_ happened before, _not like this,_ not under _these_ circumstances, but you already know you want it to happen again, and again, and again… “Don't… _Don't stop, please - ”_

“Squeezin’ me so tight - ” His free hand fondles your ass, spreading your cheeks to see your puckered hole, and he presses but doesn’t push past. “Come on, bunny…” Fingers rub against your stretched slit, gathering your slick and spreading it around that hole until he _pushes past - “Give it to me.”_ \- and everything _tightens,_ and - _oh -_

You melt into the bed, bones dissolving into jelly, brain turning to mush with all the electrical currents shooting up to it, and every whine and every cry and every mewl only seems to make him fuck you _harder,_ and your insides will surely be bruised tomorrow, but all you can focus on is the sound of his grunts and growls, that coil in your belly tightening so quickly it just keeps on _snapping,_ and that obscene noise of his thighs smacking against your ass, your pussy gushing around his length and he just _doesn't. stop._

“You want Steve, yeah, babydoll?” He's sick. He’s sick, and he’s twisted, and he’s getting harder by the minute over the thought of you thinking about someone else, and the way your walls clutch him when he utters that name makes him _feral. Unhinged._ “Fuckin’ _answer me.”_

“Yes - ” He shoves another finger inside, fingers stroking in slow circles against the thin layer of muscle that combat brutal thrusts… And then a third finger joins, stretching so tight, fucking faster, making him think about things he should not be thinking about… 

_Your holes, stretched, filled with both him and Steve, the noises you’d make and the praises you’d sing and the tightness of your cunt, your teary eyes, the mess he’d make of you -_ **_they’d_ ** _make of you -_

“You want him in this tight little ass and me in this sloppy little cunt, don’t you?” It’s not even a question anymore as he already knows the answer, but you still manage a broken mewl, a muffled _yes_ against the pillow - “Can feel my cock through your ass, bunny. Takin’ it so well… Maybe I’ll let Stevie have you too, huh? If you’re good for me? You’d like that, wouldn'tcha?”

“Yeah… yeah, Buck, I - I’d like that - ” The thought briefly flashes in your mind, and your stomach clenches at the mere idea of being so _full,_ but your mind is not exactly _working,_ and you can barely think… _Hell,_ you’d probably agree to _jump off a fucking cliff_ if he asked you to right now, so it doesn't really matter - 

“Christ. Fuckin’ good, sweetheart.” It hurts, stinging, burning, a perturbed blend of pleasure and pain and bliss and suffering, and he’s so goddamn _hard,_ painfully so, and it’s a fucking _drug,_ a high you’d never want to come down from, euphoria after a workout. Every thrust knocks the air out of your lungs and you aren’t even desperate to have it back. He can keep it. It’s his. All you are is his, and he's yours, and _God,_ he’ll never let you fucking forget it. 

“You’re so _mine,_ baby…” Wet, open-mouthed kisses decorate your shoulders as he falls apart, grasping onto every part of your body with insatiable greed, hoping he’ll imprint his fingerprints, sucking a mark onto your neck. 

“Yeah, bunny,” he grunts, “I got you. I _own_ you - ”

His hips jerk forward, then again, then _again,_ shaky pants and guttural groans rumbling against your spine upon his release, your name falling from his mouth like a desperate hymn until you feel his weight on top of you as he falls forward, bracing himself on the headboard, almost snapping the goddamn thing in half. 

When he stills, chest rising and falling with torrid breaths that warm your back, he slips out, leaving you bruised, tender, and empty. 

_So, so empty._

“Gonna have you again, doll - ” Your body stills at the mere mention of that word, _again,_ his weight lifting off of you before he settles against the headboard and pulls you onto his lap. 

And then you’re full again, full of him as he wraps his being around you, consumes your thoughts, uses your body until every nerve lights on fire and the thought tattoos itself on your brain - _You’re only fit for me, bunny._

#### ❃ ❃ ❃

A towel damped with warm water dips between your thighs after ghosting over your shoulders, loving kisses pressed in their path. He climbs into bed behind you and strokes any errant hairs behind your ear, pulls you closer to him. 

“I liked that…” you whisper, taking a deep breath. "Like," and then another deep breath, calming yourself down, _"Really_ liked that..." You look over your shoulder at him, at his goofy smile, then feel your stomach flutter at the way he looks at you, almost like you're discovering love for the first time in sixth grade. 

"Yeah." He nods. "We'll have to do that again."

You snuggle into his arms, the dull ache between your legs a reminder: “But, about…” You chuckle and shake your head, tracing a finger over the subtle veins in his biceps and forearms, waiting for him to goad you into continuing. 

_(You don't think you can say it without a bit more motivation.)_

“What is it, doll?” he mumbles against your neck.

Another deep breath. _Dare you say it?_

_(You do.)_

“About Steve… Did you mean what you said?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading <3  
> 


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